


the corner of first and amistad

by asylumsession



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, back on my space bullshit, dumb gays, takeda is a bad drunk, what do I tag this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asylumsession/pseuds/asylumsession
Summary: It's three a.m. and the city is awake.Ukai Keishin is tired of it.
Relationships: Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Comments: 28
Kudos: 203





	the corner of first and amistad

**Author's Note:**

> Yk honestly nobody should be surprised that me ending up neck deep in haikyuu (finally) is what it took to kick my ass back into gear for writing

Ukai Keishin grows weary of the city.

He’s a country boy at heart, born and raised in a place where he can glance outside and see the stars anytime at night. The crickets sang to him when he jogged through the chilled night air, lungs cold and body warm.

Here, the cacophony of cars keeps him awake at night. People are only polite because they have to be. There’s nothing but the black sky above him, empty of the starlight he’d taken for granted as a kid.

When he’s twenty-two, he moves to the city to make a better life for himself. By the time he’s twenty-six, he’s just _tired_ , in a bone-deep wary sort of way. He takes up smoking a year and a half in. It isn’t as if it’ll kill him any more than this place will, after all.

Sleep seldom comes easy. He turns in around ten every night, but without fail he’ll toss and turn until two or three. After that, he finally gives up and rises again. Sometimes, it’s easy to occupy his mind with the same two late-night television channels until he passes out or the sun comes up. Sometimes, he’s too restless.

Tonight is such a night.

His apartment is on the third floor of the complex. The rent is spiked high for such a dingy, busted place, but it’s barely in his pay range and he’s lived here for the past four years, so it’s home now whether he likes it or not.

Despite the time he’s been here, it hasn’t changed much. It’s the same ratty couch and low table that serves more as a catch-all than anything else. The carpets are stained with things he doesn’t care to question and the occasional bugs aren’t favorable, but at least he hasn’t seen any rats thus far. The appliances are liable to break and there’s been two break-ins at the complex since he’s lived here, but not at his apartment.

The window to the fire escape whines in protest as Keishin shoulders it open. It doesn’t have a particularly good view unless the viewer is fond of brick walls and dark alleyways, but Keishin doesn’t particularly care about his view. He shuffles out in his cotton pajama pants, no shirt, no shoes, bleached hair loose around his face, armed only with his lighter and a single cigarette.

It’s three a.m. and the city is still awake. The cold air bites at his face as he flicks his lighter several times without success, attempting to light his cigarette. Finally, it gives him a feeble enough flame to light the end, and he takes a long inhale. Distantly, he hears the sounds of the cars on the busy streets. There are sirens somewhere in the distance, high and wailing above the blinding lights and dark skies.

He exhales into the chilled air, watching the smoke curl into wisps and fade into the darkness.

Everything feels kind of muted, like he’s the only thing living in this moment, like the city is bearing down on him all at once, softly requesting his humanity in exchange for blinding lights and endless noise and eternal pleasures.

God, he misses the stars. He misses the serenity of the country, even with its mosquitoes and nosy people. It was so easy to forget the world there, in his quiet bubble of serenity.

He shifts from foot to foot in a half-hearted attempt to warm up, exhaling another breath of smoke from between his teeth. He considers, not for the first time, that this is a bad habit he needs to break, but it’s the only thing that never fails to ease him on nights like these.

Keishin snubs the last bit of his cigarette and turns to flick the butt off the railing and go inside, but scuffling sounds and muffled voices give him pause. He watches as two men, hoods flipped up over their heads, wrestle a third into the end of the alleyway. The third man is visibly afraid, even from this distance, short black hair ruffled, glasses askew, and clothes disheveled.

Probably a mugging. They happen commonly in the area. Keishin sighs. It really isn’t his concern, but he’s not a bad person at heart.

He raises his hand to his ear like he has a phone – not that they’ll be able to tell from where he is – and his voice. “Yes, officer? There are two men here attempting to rob someone,” he starts, watching out of his peripherals as the three men down below start, their heads whipping up.

He starts in on the address, but the two would-be robbers have already abandoned their mission and raced out of the alleyway, leaving the third man unceremoniously dumped on the cold concrete.

Keishin watches him stumble back to his feet, seemingly disoriented. He sways a little like he’s been drinking, and then adjusts his glasses and peers up at Keishin properly.

“Oi,” Keishin drawls, finally flicking his forgotten cigarette butt, “it ain’t safe to wander around these parts at this time of night. You stupid or somethin’?”

“I guess so,” the man replies, voice soft and grateful. “Thank you for helping me. I figured it’d be safer to walk intoxicated than drive, but I guess I should have just gotten a cab, huh?”

So he’d hit the nail on the head. Tipsy businessman, probably out drinking with equally irresponsible coworkers. Keishin has a nasty feeling this guy is a magnet for trouble. He looks too nice. With a quiet groan, he drops his head against the cold metal of the railing, debating -- not for the first time, as usual -- his life choices.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters to himself, and then, louder, to the man, “306. You’d better sober up before you get mugged again.”

He doesn’t even pause to wait for a reply, going back inside and shoving the window shut behind him. If the dude decides not to take him up on the offer, it isn’t Keishin’s problem. He’d tried and that’s all he can do.

Suffice to say, he isn’t actually expecting the soft, hesitant knock a few minutes later.

Keishin opens the door and fixes the man with a scrutinizing look. “I was right,” he decides, “you _are_ too trusting. What if I tried to kill you or somethin’, huh?”  
  


Up close, the man is visibly shorter than him and narrow, all messy black hair and wide, brown eyes. His face is scuffed, undoubtedly from the earlier alteration, and tinged red, which Keishin assumes is from drinking.

The man blinks back at him, confused and a little scared. “...You’re not going to murder me, right?”

Keishin snorts and steps out of the way to let him come in. “‘Course not. Murder aftermath sounds like a pain in the ass to handle.”

The man seems a little hesitant, but he shuffles in, nonetheless, and promptly bows at the waist. Keishin jumps.

“Thank you for helping me even though we’re complete strangers!”

Keishin grimaces. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, reaching past the man to shut the door, “you don’t gotta bow or nothin’. Any properly raised person woulda done the same.”

The dark-haired man straightens up slowly, frowning. “Most people here would have turned the other way, I think.”

 _Maybe so,_ Keishin thinks, offering out a hand. “Name’s Ukai. Ukai Keishin.”

The man smiles, gentle and warm, taking it. “I’m Takeda Ittetsu.”

After the initial introduction, Takeda settles in on the couch with a cup of water while Keishin starts some tea and puts on a proper shirt. It doesn’t really matter too much anymore since their first meeting isn’t really all that orthodox to begin with, but Keishin has nothing if not _some_ manners.

Takeda seems to be sobering up more or less, but he’s clearly still tipsy enough that he’s a danger to himself on the city streets at this hour. Maybe it’s just Keishin wanting the company, but he thinks Takeda doesn’t seem like he’s in any haste to leave regardless.

They talk some over tea. Takeda tells him he’s a teacher – _no_ , he laughs, when Keishin brings it up, _I’m not a businessman in that sense_ – and he teaches high school literature. He seems all too happy to talk about the antics his students get into.

For the first time in a while, Keishin forgets about the city.

When he wakes in the morning, draped awkwardly on one end of the couch with a blanket over him, Takeda is gone. There’s a note on top of the TV, where Keishin luckily sees it quickly.

It’s a hastily scribbled _thank you_ and _goodbye._

Keishin crumbles it up and throws it away, stepping out for another cigarette.

Things return to what Keishin has come to call _normal_. He doesn’t think about Takeda Ittetsu or the brief warmth that had come into his shitty apartment the moment the teacher had crossed the threshold. He works, he comes home, and repeat. Occasionally, he goes to the gym. Generally, sleep evades him.

“ _Keishin_ ,” his mom says over the phone, days later, her voice hardly audible over the bustle of people on the sidewalk, “ _you’re twenty-six already. Haven’t you found a nice girl yet? You’ll be thirty before you know it and then it’ll be much harder for you!_ ”

He’s watching the traffic light impatiently, waiting for it to change so he can cross. The walk sign on the opposite end seems to be taking its sweet time, though. Keishin just wants an excuse to get off the phone.

“Ma,” he sighs, “I already told you, it’ll happen when it happens. I don’t have time for a relationship right now, anyway.”

It’s the easiest thing to tell himself. The light finally signals for them to walk, and Keishin hurries across the street with the rest of the crowd. A man jars him from the side and he nearly drops his phone. Instinctively, he checks his pockets and-- Sure enough, his wallet is gone.

“Ma, I gotta go,” he grumbles, hanging up as he shoves through the people after the man. God, he’s _not_ in the mood for this today.

The man breaks into a run the moment he realizes he’s being pursued and Keishin races after him. His wallet is the last thing he can afford to lose, and of course the one day he forgot his chain is the day he gets pickpocketed.

“Oi!” He shouts, irritated and exhausted, shouldering through people. _At this rate he’ll get--_

He watches the guy suddenly eat shit, feet coming right out from him.

\-- _away._

Huh. Keishin slows to a stop and yanks the guy up by his collar, snatching his wallet back with a snarl. The man has a bloody nose from hitting the concrete so hard, and Keishin can’t help the little sting of pleasure from the karma.

“Oh, no,” says another voice from behind him, “I didn’t mean to make him hurt himself! I just meant for him to trip up a little, but he was going so fast-”

Keishin turns around. Takeda Ittetsu stands behind him, looking distressed out of his mind and suspiciously like he’s close to panicking. Keishin puts the pieces together. Takeda’s presence, the man abruptly wiping out.

“Did you… _trip_ him?” He asks slowly.

Takeda straightens up when he’s addressed, gaze darting to Keishin’s, and then away again. “I, um. I saw you chasing him a-and he reminded me of those two from that night _I_ almost got mugged and I just… reacted?”

Keishin drops the man in favor of howling with laughter. He barely even notices when the almost thief scrambles away. “Damn!” He laughs, slapping Takeda on the back so hard that the man stumbles and his glasses slide halfway down his nose. “I didn’t know you had it in ya, sensei!”

Takeda fixes his glasses, glancing up at Keishin. “Neither did I.”

He finds out Takeda _had_ been waiting for a taxi to head home. He’s got a bag full of books over his shoulder. Keishin’s admittedly a little surprised – in a place like this, running into someone _twice_ by coincidence isn’t a very easy feat. He hadn’t thought for a second he’d meet Takeda again.

“I was on my way to get groceries,” Keishin tells him, “so it woulda been a pain in the ass to lose my wallet. Normally, I have a chain for it, but I completely forgot to attach my new one after my old one broke.”

“Oh,” Takeda’s eyebrows rise, “that’s a really good idea. I didn’t think about a chain.”

“Can ya even wear one as a teacher?”

Takeda considers this. “No,” he finally admits, “probably not.”

“You’re doomed,” Keishin remarks, patting the other man’s shoulder. “In any case, thanks for your help with that. I’d better be off.”

“Oh, wait!” Takeda scrambles after him. “Let me thank you properly for the other night.”

“Huh? I think you’ve definitely repaid me plenty just now.”

“At least let me treat you to drinks or something,” Takeda persists.

Keishin gets the feeling this guy is a very, very stubborn person. He frowns a little at the determined furrow between Takeda’s wide eyes and the little, persistent downward curl of his mouth.

In hindsight, this is the exact moment Ukai Keishin could have pegged himself as _screwed._

“Fine,” he sighs, “but _not_ alcohol. I’ve seen firsthand how you handle that. Coffee or somethin’ is fine.”

Takeda visibly brightens. “Great! When works for you? I don’t have any other plans today, and tomorrow is Sunday so I’m off too, but during the week I’m not done until about three if I'm lucky…”

Keishin considers the fact that this sounds suspiciously like a date, but ah, what does he know? He hasn’t been on a date since he was twenty. Besides, he barely knows this guy.

“We can go now,” he replies, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way immediately, “I can do my grocery shopping later.”

Takeda takes him to a small cafe near the local dog park. It’s a little more out of the way, and Takeda offers to pay for a cab, but ultimately they end up walking there. Takeda is naturally a slow person, but he tries to speed up and Keishin tries to find a middle ground for them.

It’s only a little successful.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Keishin says as they arrive, opening the door, “I’ve been working at the same convenience store since I moved here four years ago. It’s not the worst. I work at this hole-in-the-wall flower shop, too.”

The bell overhead jingles to announce their arrival. One of the employees calls out a greeting as the two men join the short line. Keishin eyes the menu.

“Well, that just means you’re committed, doesn’t it?” Takeda asks. “I didn’t take you as the flower type. Do you enjoy it?”

Keishin assumes that’s short for _you look like a thug_ , but he takes it in stride. It's not the first time someone had that impression of him. He shrugs noncommittally at the question. He does enjoy gardening, but doing any enjoyable thing for money tends to suck the joy out of it, so he’s not really sure how to answer that. Besides, they’re at the front of the line.

“Get whatever you want!” Takeda tells him.

Keishin ends up getting a medium coffee, nearly black, and dumplings. The dumplings are surprisingly good – a compliment coming from someone as picky as him – and Takeda looks a little terrified at the idea of his nearly black coffee, having gotten a disastrous, caramel loaded abomination himself.

They don’t stay, but they don’t go their separate ways. The dog park is only a little busy, so they sit on a bench nearby, watching some of the dogs playing around. Keishin likes dogs, but he definitely doesn’t have time for those, either. He’d hate to get one and have it on its own most of the time.

“I love dogs,” Takeda voices his thoughts, “but my apartment complex doesn’t allow them.”

“Mine does,” Keishin says, taking a drink of his coffee, “but I don’t really have time or the means to take care of one right now.”

His phone rings again in his pocket. Takeda glances sideways at him as he fishes it out and glances at the caller ID. It’s his mother, probably annoyed after he’d hung up on her earlier. Keishin doesn’t want to deal with it right now, so he ignores the call and mutes his phone.

“You aren’t going to answer it?” Takeda asks tentatively.

“Nah,” Keishin shakes his head, “it’s my ma. She’s just harassing me about my love life, s’all. I ain’t even thirty and she’s tryin’ real hard to make me get married as soon as possible.”

Takeda pauses. “How old are you?”

Keishin grins sideways at him. “Awfully forward, ain’t you?” He asks, and when Takeda looks apologetic, he continues, “I’m kidding. I’m twenty-six.”

Takeda pauses, drink to his lips. “Wait,” he says, “you’re younger than me?”

Keishin’s eyebrows rise. “How old are _you_?”

“I’m twenty-nine,” Takeda says.

Keishin snorts, nearly chokes, and then doubles over laughing. “Damn, really? I thought you were my age or a little younger! I guess it makes sense with you bein’ a teacher and all, but you definitely don’t look like you’re almost thirty.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Takeda admits.

“I wonder,” Keishin remarks, downing his coffee.

They watch the dogs a while longer, but inevitably, Keishin needs to leave. He has to get his shopping done, get home, and go to his night shift at the store. Takeda looks as though he wants to say something more, but ultimately, they say their goodbyes and go their own ways.

Keishin puts Takeda Ittetsu in the back of his mind again, convinced that he’ll more than likely never run into the man again.

Fate has a funny way of proving him wrong, he supposes.

He takes Takeda for a rational person, but this time might just prove him wrong. Keishin stares down at the unsteady dark-haired man, frowning. He’s not sure why Takeda ended up here _again_ , drunk _again_ , but here he is, dressed down in a blue sweater and missing his glasses at eleven at night. He squints back at Keishin, smiling a little lopsidedly.

“Why are you here?” Keishin finally asks.

Takeda beams. “We’re friends! I wanted to see you! Also, I think my coworker has my house keys,” he slurs.

On god, this man was going to be the death of him. Keishin sighs, but he moves out of the way to let Takeda stumble in and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t bother with a shirt this time.

“Please don’t throw up on my carpet. There’s too many weird stains as is.”

Takeda hears him, he assumes, watching as the teacher locates the bathroom very rapidly on his hands and knees. Keishin starts some tea again. When Takeda returns, he drops down on the couch and burrows underneath the blanket that had been abandoned there, groaning softly.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles, when Keishin nudges him to hand over the tea.

Keishin watches his head resurface from beneath the blanket, still squinting and hair even messier. He isn’t sure how Takeda is _this_ bad at holding his alcohol, or why he keeps doing it despite knowing he’s bad, but Keishin isn’t really one to judge. Besides, he’s still thinking about the whole _we’re friends_ thing Takeda had dropped on him at the door.

 _Are_ they friends? He doesn’t want to dwell on that too long.

“It’s fine,” he waves it off. “Drink that and get some rest. You can worry about everything else in the morning.”

He rises from his crouch and crosses to the kitchen to clean up some. Takeda only finishes half the tea before he’s out cold on the couch. Keishin fixes the blanket over him and shuts the lights off, locks the door, and retires to his room.

Sleep evades him.

He spends the first hour staring at the ceiling. When this grows painfully boring, he rolls over to check his phone. TV isn’t an option tonight with Takeda sleeping in the living room, but clearly he isn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight himself. At two, he finally caves and rolls back out of bed.

Keishin slinks quietly into the living room and grabs his new lighter and box of cigarettes off the table, creeping to the window and carefully shuffling it open. Mercifully, it doesn’t squeal this time.

  
Keishin slides out onto the fire escape, sitting on the outside windowsill so he can listen if Takeda wakes. His new lighter produces a flame immediately, and Keishin lights a cigarette, putting it to his lips. The sting of smoke is familiar, as disgusting as it is. Really, he needs to stop depending on this habit.

There are sirens somewhere in the distance again.

“Ukai?” Takeda’s groggy voice floats from inside the apartment.

“Did I wake ya?” Keishin asks, glancing back.

“No,” Takeda blinks back at him from the couch, squinting to see. “Why are you awake?”  
  
“I couldn’t sleep.”

Keishin exhales another breath of smoke and Takeda wrinkles his nose.

“That’s a bad habit,” he says softly. “Do you do this often? Come to think of it… It was the same situation when we met, wasn’t it?”

 _Yes,_ Keishin thinks, but he doesn’t reply out loud. Things have changed since then. Not just for him in particular, but for both of them as a whole. Back then, Takeda had just been a complete stranger that Keishin had saved out of the goodness of his upbringing, if not his heart. He takes another drag and exhales into the chilled night air. Goosebumps prickle over his exposed torso.

He can feel Takeda’s gaze on his back.

“Oi, sensei,” he says into the air, “you’re a good person. Stay that way, yeah? You gotta be careful 'round here. City like this'll eat your humanity.”

  
“Ukai,” Takeda asks softly. “Why do you make yourself suffer like this? You’re a good person, too.”

  
Keishin takes a long drag of his cigarette. For a moment, he considers not answering. It would make it easier. He could just finish his cigarette and go to sleep. Takeda probably isn’t going to remember any of this in the morning anyway.

But he finally exhales.

“I stopped focusing on what made me happy,” he breathes, “it makes life a lot easier.”

  
He almost misses Takeda’s whisper.

“Not from where I stand.”

Keishin leans back on his hands, cigarette in between his lips and gaze fixed on the starless sky. It's lonely.

  
“...Go to sleep, Takeda.”

In the morning, there’s another hastily scribbled note. _Ukai,_ it reads, _I’m so sorry about my state last night. Thank you again for letting me stay._

There’s a phone number at the bottom in lieu of a signature. Keishin plugs it into his contacts.

Somehow, slowly, Takeda Ittetsu slowly becomes a cornerstone of Keishin’s life. They see each other frequently and text even more. Keishin gets scolded about his phone more than once at work and he feels like he’s a teenager again. Takeda visits often and somehow makes a home in Keishin’s shitty little place, and sometimes Keishin goes to his own cramped apartment, simple and flower-filled and very much Takeda.

But somehow, Takeda ends up back at Keishin’s house every time he goes drinking without fail.

It occurs to Keishin, one night, when a half sober Takeda is slung over the arm of his ratty couch, hunched over a trash can, that Keishin isn’t so tired of the city anymore. He misses home certainly, but in the near year he’s known Takeda now, he’s become more at ease. It’s easier to breathe now.

“Oi,” he knocks a glass of water lightly against Takeda’s head.

Takeda looks up, glasses disheveled, hair messy, and eyes glazed over. He’s in various states of disarray, but even under the dim lighting of the apartment, there’s something so brilliant about him that Keishin thinks he might be a little in love.

Takeda shifts to sit a little more upright and curls his fingers around the cup of water, but Keishin doesn’t quite let go. Takeda squints at their overlapped hands.

“You don’t work weekends,” Keishin states more than asks, “so come back home with me this weekend.”

Takeda frowns unsteadily. “But we are at your house.”

Keishin releases the cup. “No,” he says, “ _home_. Back in the country.”

“Oh,” says Takeda, but then he puts the cup to his lips and doesn’t reply.

Keishin wakes in the morning to Takeda sitting on the kitchen counter, a cup of hot tea in his hands and a pensive expression resting on his features. He’s a little surprised because even now, Takeda is usually gone by the time he gets up, having left a note or a text. He’s still in some sort of state of disarray, though he looks as though he’d made an attempt to clean up.

“Morning,” Keishin greets, bending to dig through the refrigerator.

“Good morning,” Takeda replies absently, frowns, and then continues, “Ukai, did you mean what you said yesterday?”

Keishin glances up in confusion. “'Bout what?”

“Me- Me coming back… home with you?” He won’t meet Keishin’s eyes.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Keishin admits. “I guess. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, so you don’t gotta worry about it if you don’t wanna. Figured it might be nice to have a break, s’all.”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“Okay,” Takeda repeats, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I’ll come.”

Keishin grins crookedly. “Okay.”

So they go.

Keishin had already taken the weekend off, having planned to go home this weekend anyway. Sometimes, a break is just a good change of pace, even if he's finally gotten himself in a good state of mind in the city. They leave in the late afternoon, after Takeda is finished at the school, and head straight to the train for the long ride ahead.

It’s dark by the time they arrive, and Takeda is out cold, leaning heavily against Keishin. He nudges the other man awake and guides him out of the train. Takeda’s awake the moment the cold air hits his face. It’s even colder here than in the city since it’s further north, but it’s more open for the wind as well.

“Wow,” Takeda breathes, and for a moment, Keishin isn’t sure what he’s talking about.

He follows Takeda’s gaze up and his breath steals away in a manner that he’d nearly forgotten. The stars blanket the sky above them, brilliant little pinpricks of light across the expanse of swirling darkness, flickering and blinking down at the earth. The more rational part of him knows they’re nothing impressive, nothing more than massive balls of gas billions of miles away from them, but it does nothing to diminish the fact that he’s _desperately_ missed the sight of them.

“I’ve seen stars in theory,” Takeda says, “but I’ve lived in cities my whole life. I’ve never… seen them in person.”

Keishin smiles. “Trust me, it’s not a sight you’ll ever get tired of.”

Takeda gazes at him then, and Keishin isn’t sure what he sees in the other man’s eyes.

He apologizes in advance, later, for his parents. His mother is, as expected, overbearing, but nonetheless excited that Keishin has a friend to bring home. She gives him a curious little sidelong look that he pointedly ignores.

They crash as soon as they hit the pillows. Saturday blows by in a whirlwind of meeting up with old friends and getting back to old hobbies. Keishin remembers the stings of a volleyball on his hands as surely as he’d been in high school. Setting is still second nature. Takeda watches from the sidelines, eyes wide and attention rapt, and if Keishin shows off a little for his sake, nobody says anything about it.

“There’s one more place,” Keishin says, as the sun dips below the horizon later that evening, “I always went there as a teen. It should still be fine, I think.”

It’s just nearing the end of the autumn, in any case, so he _thinks_ it should still be around. The weather is getting colder every day. Keishin absently drapes one of his two scarves around Takeda’s shoulders and takes the lead into the back parts of town where he’d run wild as a boy.

They crest a hill, breath forming white clouds in the chilled night air, and sure enough, red cloaks the tree-dotted area on the other side. Spider-lilies. Takeda gasps at the crest, gazing down in awe even as Keishin carries on, picking his way towards the central cove.

“I loved it here in high school,” Keishin admits, “I got into gardening for a while over it, but that ain't easy in the city, so it kinda fell to the wayside.”

"Is that why you work at the flower shop?" Takeda asks.

Keishin hums noncommittally. "Maybe."

He drops rather unceremoniously into a slightly emptier patch and lays on his back, staring at the sky. Takeda carefully sits beside him, tucking his knees up for warmth. The ground beneath them is cold, and Keishin knows the flowers won’t be alive for much longer.

“I always came here to stargaze. I’d sit for hours. It was kinda a safe haven, I guess.”

He looks to Takeda, expecting him to be looking at the sky, but to his surprise, the man’s dark eyes are fixed on him, glittering in the darkness like they’re reflecting the starlight itself. Keishin’s heart does a funny little thing in his chest, something he’s started to become comfortable with associating with Takeda.

“Ukai,” Takeda says, voice soft, as if he’s afraid of being heard, lips parted and one hand raised like he’s going to reach out.

“Aw, man,” Keishin tells him, “don’t look at me like that. I don’t know if I can stop myself, then.”

“Then don’t,” Takeda whispers, leaning in to meet Keishin’s mouth halfway.

His mother gives him another knowing look when he smiles privately at Takeda the next morning, but he pretends, once again, not to notice.

\--

“In hindsight,” Keishin tells him, years later, when they’re thirty-two and thirty-five, living together with two dogs, five years into their relationship and counting, “I think you started a lot of the changes in my life that I ended up desperately needing.”

Ittetsu laughs as he rolls over, tucking his arm around Keishin’s waist. “You should learn to listen to your elders better!”

Keishin snorts. “I don’t have to take shit from a cradle robber like you.”

“Cra-?!”

Ittetsu sputters indignantly, and Keishin howls with laughter. Five years ago, he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to laugh so freely.

Nowadays, he can’t even imagine living how he had before. Maybe when autumn comes around again, he’ll take Ittetsu back to the spider-lily field. Maybe he’ll buy a ring this time.

“I think I should save pretty teachers from getting mugged in alleys more often, don’t you?”


End file.
